


Rumor Has It

by orphan_account



Series: Episode Tags [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, very very background Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 21:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17875055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Three false rumors, and one that might be true.





	Rumor Has It

  1. **The King was seduced by means of clever sorcery**



 

Arya hears this one whispered in the kitchen. She’s made a habit of lingering there, as it has the advantage of several shadowy corners and quite a lot of distracted, busy people. Today she’s filched an apple from a nearby barrel and is crunching it in increments while she listens.

 

“She’s _Valyrian,_ ” Wylla the chambermaid is whispering to her friend, eyes alight with the pleasure of imparting a good secret. “They know all sorts of magic.” She pauses for effect. “ _Sex_ magic.”

 

Arya chokes on her apple. The hacking makes the two silly girls look up, and Arya, still busy trying not to die by fruit, is nevertheless pleased to see how quickly their faces drain of color.

 

“Lady Stark!” Wylla shrills, dropping into a ridiculously low curtsey. “I didn’t see you there, my lady, forgive me!”

 

Her friend is nodding as if trying to dislodge a spider. Arya enjoys their open terror for a few moments longer, and takes the opportunity to clear her throat of apple bits.

 

“Clearly,” she says, rubbing her throat. It was probably stupid to try to eat and eavesdrop at the same time. The Faceless Men would be ashamed.

 

The Faceless Men can go fuck themselves, though. She takes another bite of apple.

 

“He’s your king,” she says, mouth full. “You owe him your allegiance. And next time,” she leans in, smiling like a wolf, “consider that the walls have ears, and that it’s very, _very_ cold outside.”

 

She leaves them staring after her, both wide-eyed and trembling. A distant part of her – the long-buried Arya of the past who sat at her father’s knee and listened to him talk of honor – knows that it's wrong to threaten those under your protection. But the rest of her knows, with all the cold certainty of the hunter she’s become, that they won’t be spreading _that_ particular little fable around Winterfell anytime soon.

 

 _Sex magic._ Ridiculous.

 

 

**2.Daenerys Targaryen eats babies**

 

“No,” Sansa says. Supper is over and done with, but she finds herself in need of another drink. “I hadn’t heard that particular rumor, but I doubt there’s any truth to it.”

 

The young Lord Umber looks vaguely disappointed.

 

“I have heard similar tales,” Lord Glover says smugly. “I have heard, in fact, that she uses their blood to bathe in, the better to retain her unnatural beauty.”

 

Sansa meet’s Arya’s gaze. Her sister looks on the verge of saying something unwise. Bran is tracking the conversation with only the vaguest flicker of interest in his dark, ancient eyes. No help there, either.

 

“Indeed,” Lord Glover continues, oblivious. “I would question the wisdom of our king, to associate with such a…woman, if indeed _association_ is the right word.”

 

“Lord Glover,” Sansa breaks in, before Arya can physically vault across the table and stab him with Needle, “I would thank you not to repeat that outside these chambers.”

 

He looks taken aback. “Of course, my lady.”

 

Sansa casts a long look around the table at her lords and ladies. Of all the surviving heads of house under her command, only Lady Lyanna and Lady Alys seem to have avoided the temptation to engage in idle gossip in the midst of war preparations.

 

 _The North Remembers, indeed,_ she thinks sourly.

 

“Well,” she says, pasting on an icy, insincere little smile. “In that case, let us move on to the issue of our food supplies.”

 

3\. **Jaime Lannister is having an affair with Brienne of Tarth**

 

“No,” Bran says, when Pod plucks up the courage to ask him. “They both want to, but they don’t know how to begin.”

 

Pod goes a little pink. He nods sharply, once. “Just wanted to ask.”

 

“You could have asked Ser Brienne,” Bran says. The tonelessness is starting to pluck at Pod’s nerves. It’s like talking to a tree.

 

“She’d have killed me!” Pod yelps. “I mean. I don’t even know what would have happened.”

 

For a moment Bran looks less the ancient, all-knowing seer and more the awkward boy.

 

“This isn’t exactly what the Three-Eyed Raven is for–“ he begins.

 

“Yes,” Pod says, making his escape. “Yes, yes, I know, thank you. Have–“ it’s just Lord Stark’s chair and the fire in the grate, not even a scroll for company, “have a nice, ah, think, my lord.”

 

 

4\. **The White Walkers ride spiders**

 

“Spiders?” Jon looks amused. They’re sitting in his tent, eating a meal of gristly meat of uncertain origin, the winter winds howling outside. “If they ever did, they seem to have upgraded to horses.”

 

“ _Dead_ horses,” Daenerys points out. That seems important.“And are you quite sure?”

 

Jon is difficult to read most days, but right now he is visibly uneasy. “I…suppose I’m not.”

 

Daenerys reflects on her life up until this point. Being sold off like a trinket to a warlord, conquering cities with dragonfire and Unsullied swords at her back, sailing the sea, falling in love–the lot of it, and it’s led to this dark, smelly tent where she sits and debates the existence of enormous ice spiders.

 

It's ridiculous and improbable, but so is Jon Snow. So is the fact of her survival. She feels giddy as a girl just thinking about it.

 

“One more surprise awaiting us in your ancestral home, then,” she says.

 

“I bloody well hope not,” Jon says, and laughs.

 

She grins, stabbing primly at another piece of her utterly unidentifiable rations, and lets the sound of his voice warm her through and through.


End file.
